The Lonely Life and Romance of a Soapdish
by Sunphoenix
Summary: There's one poor soapdish that is hopelessly in love with Sirius Black. Unfortunately for the soapdish... Sirius loves someone else. Shounenai, onesided SiriusSoapdish, SiriusRemus. And yes, I know this is the pairing from crack hell.


Ick. Author's note. Erm… I'll quickly try to explain where this seemingly random and rather disturbing pairing came from. But have no fear; it IS one-sided Soapdish for Sirius. Sirius doesn't even know the soap dish exists, besides the fact that he vaguely remembers the fact that there's something holding the soap he uses every day. Anyway. My friends and I, back when we were in seventh grade, being the random crazy people that we are, started a HP community RPG, had fun, made characters, discussed pairings. Now, during the discussion of the pairings, one particular Sirius fangirl said one particular pairing involving Sirius would work as well as a Sirius/Soapdish themed pairing. Us, being the fangirls (and fanboys, I'm male. XD) that we are, immediately picked up on the idea and thought it was brilliant. And here we are now, two years later. I've decided to write a one-shot about it. XD And… because I don't want the author's notes to be even longer than the story, I will shut up now.

Oh, and I don't own anything. At all. Not even the pairing. Please don't sue. Thank you, and I'm sure my wallet thanks you too.

* * *

I am truly, madly, deeply in love. I find myself waiting every day for his arrival with bated breath; waiting to see him, expecting for the inevitable, wishing for the impossible. I wait for my prince to come every day into this room with a light, nonchalant grin on his face. I want to see his smile. It could have been a storybook tale. There is just one problem.

I am a soapdish.

I am positioned just above and to the right of the third sink on the left in the Gryffindor boys' bathroom. I am left in a dirty, dingy bathroom, with cracked mirrors, graffitied stalls, and chipped urinals. What once was a breathtaking marble showcase of a room has degraded to what it is now. Even with all the magic in the castle, no one is going to waste any to fix a bathroom. The one bright spot in this room is him.

He's not here all the time, of course. He's human, a student at the school. He is only in here for maybe fifteen minutes at most all day, washing up for meals and the like. Yet those fifteen minutes seem to last forever and yet pass in a second. I wait, I hope, I dream, and I am rewarded.

The door opens quickly, the bark-like sound of his laugh lingering on after he turns his head away from the common room and comes toward me. His dark hair is growing shaggy, growing out from the clean cut of childhood to a more rebellious look suited to his adolescence. His grey eyes, always smiling, whether in innocence or otherwise, are dancing and sparkling in the faint light of the dying afternoon sun. He turns on the water faucet, grabbing the soap as he does so, and my heart skips a beat as I feel those soft smooth fingers brush across my surface. The cold clear water rushes over those hands, so soft and smooth, pale as finest ivory crafted by a master sculptor. Yet his hands are very unlike ivory. Ivory is like me, cold and white, chipped by years of use and covered in a thick layer of dirt and soap scum. His hands are warm and pale like milk.

Then he replaces the soap, his fingers lingering around it, resting on me, just for a second. And part of me screams in bliss and a second part in agony, one for the touch of his fingers and the other for the knowledge that they will draw away all too soon.

He turns away and my metaphorical eyes narrow, realizing that in the ecstasy that I was feeling I didn't notice that someone else had entered the room. It was that boy.

The boy I love, my Sirius, removed his hands from me as I silently screamed in consternation and in agonizing frustration, and I was forced to watch as he laughed and threw his arms around the other boy's neck, drawing him into a easy, relaxed hug, as though he had been doing this all his life. His hands, draped across the boy's chest, were relaxed and resting, the way I'd always wanted him to place his hands on me. The other boy, Lupin, looked faintly surprised but smiled all the same. They went over and sat by the door, completely ignoring my pain that grew more intense with every second the two spent together, and the more obvious fact that a bathroom isn't a very good place to hold a conversation anyway, especially when the floors are dirty and the very atmosphere of the place gives off a feeling that it hasn't been cleaned in centuries.

I was broken out of my reverie of musing and ranting when Sirius placed those angelic hands of his around the boy's neck and back, and gave him a very light kiss, right on the mouth.

I think I may have created a hairline fracture right down my center. The hurt, the betrayal, the love, the rage, the envy… ! All of this and more swirled around in my heart, completely disregarding that I never had a heart to hold these emotions in the first place. I think, at that moment, if I had eyes, or tear ducts, or tears themselves, I would have cried. In fact, I know I would have. Because that is what I was doing in that single, heart-stopping moment. I was bawling my eyes out with all the grief that only a lonely, heartbroken soapdish just above and to the right of the third sink on the left in the Gryffindor boys' bathroom can muster.

And then Sirius pulled back, a slight smile on his face, his eyes laughing at the slightly confused and bewildered expression on Lupin's face, and I knew that he was happy. No matter how much I wanted it, we could never be because of what I was. Because I was a soapdish, nothing could ever result from my love for him. And I knew it. But even as my heart despaired at that, I also knew that he would still be here. I would still feel his touch, day after day, year after year, until he was no longer a boy, but a man, and would leave Hogwarts forever.

… No, I wouldn't think about that. That was too depressing. But the point was, I could let him be happy. I could let him be happy in spite of my feelings for him, because unknowingly, he would return my feelings each day with that slight brush from his fingers as he picked up the soap.

I was beginning to think more fondly of the puppy pair, after all.

* * *

Yeah. I hope you liked it...! Oh, and for all the Alan fans out there, the TMD reference was not an accident, or a coincidence. That was definitely put there on purpose.

Yaya...! This is the first thing that I've actually posted here for a very long time. ; Anyway. Review. Please. They make me happy.


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